Light Em Up
by Anna Baggins
Summary: When Castiel was told that he needed to rescue Dean Winchester from hell, he didn't realize it would be so difficult. He didn't realize that Sam and Dean Winchester were psychopathic killers and that getting Dean out of that life would lead to his own fall from heaven. He also didn't realize that he would end up feeling something for the Righteous Man that he had never felt before.
1. Author's Note

This fanfiction is loosely based on this AU video (and is the inspiration for it): watch?v=VBgfC78msng&feature=share (if you do not wish to see slash, please skip 1:53-1:59 & 2:44-2:45).

Many thanks to sirikenobi167 (tumblr) who got me to writing this fic again because of a request and my good friend Emma ( u/4022040/BlackRoseea) and new friend Tasha (kraziisme on tumblr) who have been the best alpha/beta readers there could be.

 **Fanfiction soundtrack (work-in-progress):**

\- My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark (Light Em Up) by Fall Out Boy

\- Demons by Imagine Dragons

\- Falling Slowly by Josh Groban

\- For The First Time by The Afters

\- Burn With You by Lea Michele


	2. 1 Wherever You Are

_I wanna be, wherever you are._

 _Deep in my bones, deep in my heart._

 _I wanna love you like there's no tomorrow._

 _I wanna be wherever you are; wearing a sign on my chest so everybody knows I'm yours._

* * *

When Castiel was told that he needed to rescue Dean Winchester from hell, he didn't realize it would be so difficult. Zachariah had given him the basic information and the necessary details – or so he had said. Castiel didn't dare to even entertain the idea that Zachariah would have hidden important information from him; it simply couldn't be. Zachariah must not have known how tortured the soul of Dean Winchester was.

 _Castiel had felt a twinge of nervousness as he rapped on Zachariah's office door at precisely the time Zachariah wanted him to come. Zachariah didn't approve of being early or late – just on time._

" _Come in," Zachariah's voice grated through the door. Castiel opened it and went through_ _, expending the effort to maintain the illusion of the door being an effective barrier_ _. Zachariah liked to see the angels in his garrison have to_ _make_ _the extra effort_ _when visiting him in his domain._ _(_ _Or that's what the angels in Castiel's_ _squadron had said during the initial training all those millennia ago.)_

" _You wanted to see me?" Castiel asked, trying to appear as confident as possible. Zachariah didn't like nervousness. In fact, he didn't like any emotions at all. He said they were a sign of weakness. It was_ _akin to_ _becoming vile_ _and human-like._

" _Yes, Castiel," said Zachariah, sliding a photograph over his desk._ _He_ _didn't like to waste time, but rather get right down to the point. "You are to go save Dean Winchester from hell."_

The first time Castiel saw Dean Winchester's soul was when he entered the torture chambers belonging to the demon Alistair and his favoured apprentices. He had felt filthy just from entering the room. He soon had forgotten all about his own feelings of disgust, however, when he saw the man on the table, writhing in pain as his flesh was torn apart, his hair and clothing soaked in blood. It was hard to see anything of the man's body, but Castiel distinctly saw a flash of green eyes from the photograph Zachariah had shown him. Not that he doubted that this was Dean Winchester. Even with how this man's soul was twisted, there was something special – oh so special – about it. This could only be the soul of the Righteous Man.

Castiel was already exhausted. He had been fighting his way through hell because Zachariah had only known the level of hell Dean might be in – or so he said. Castiel currently wasn't doubting his superior, although at the moment that was more due to him fighting and becoming somewhat exasperated, but he would learn to.

Although it had taken months to reach this point, Castiel had quickly lost track of time. He had also lost track of how many demons he had slashed and burned into oblivion. If he had thought being a captain of one of heaven's garrisons was hard... this was so much more exhausting. So when Alistair looked around from the torture table with a sly glint in his eye, Castiel almost gave up.

Almost.

" _Why me?" Castiel had asked. It wasn't a demand, nor curiosity, but a customary necessity._

" _Your superior, Anna, was the one who suggested it. Oh no, Castiel, it was not my choice. I'm sure I could have found someone much better."_

 _Castiel didn't feel hurt at all by this comment. Or so he told himself. So he just nodded and then stood there, waiting for Zachariah to give him the details of his mission._

 _However, Zachariah did not seem to have any._

" _You may go now," the angel told him._

 _Castiel blinked. "Are there not any more instructions?"_

" _No, Castiel," said Zachariah coolly. "You are expected to rescue the Righteous Man from hell. You are expected to obey. And that is that."_

Even remembering the mission was not quite enough. But seeing a human in such pain moved his heart, or it would have if he had one. And so Castiel took hold of the little resolve and strength he had left and charged forward.

Alistair was good – better than most of the demons he had faced. However, if he had been at full strength, Castiel would have been able to finish him off in a moment. But, as it was, he had barely enough strength to dodge Alistair, grab a hold of Dean Winchester's arm, and transport himself and the man to a safe place on earth.

It was a log cabin, complete with sigils and demon traps, the place that Zachariah had told him to take Dean Winchester for recovery afterwards. (" _For I suppose we couldn't just drop him off just anywhere, now could we?" asked Zachariah with a toothy grin that made Castiel believe that Zachariah would do just that._ ). "No demon can enter here; we are safe," was the thought that first entered his mind when, with a wearied sigh, he collapsed onto his knees, Dean Winchester's soul cradled in his arms.

Now, Castiel finally had a chance to look upon the man for whom he had risked his grace. It was all he could do for now because he could not heal Dean until his grace had renewed itself – thanks to all the fighting that he had done, and the little strength he had left, it was a process that could take a day, depending on how careful he was.

It was all he could do to not use the rest of his grace on Dean when he really looked at him. Yes, the torn skin and broken limbs and blood and bashed-in face were a horrible sight – but his soul... oh, _his soul_. Castiel had never seen such a beautiful thing, and yet it was so tormented and broken. Not only from hell, for not even hell could break down a soul so totally. Castiel realized, with a start, that Dean Winchester's soul was as close to its death as it could ever be.

The angel clutched the soul to his chest, whispering soothing words. _It's all right. It's all right, I've got you. You don't have to go through this any more. I'll heal you as soon as I've got the strength._

As he held the soul close, oh so carefully, oh so tenderly, the memories of Dean Winchester soaked through Jimmy Novak's trench coat and through the vessel's skin (for Zachariah had said that it was necessary that he pick a human vessel for this mission), piercing through Castiel's mind and into his own soul.

 _An abusive father. He was drunk, stumbling into the room. Screaming at Dean because he didn't see Sam right away when he entered the cheap motel room. Hitting Dean's head so hard that Dean reeled back and collapsed to the ground. But that wasn't it. Oh no, it wasn't it._

Castiel felt tears forming in Jimmy Novak's eyes... _his_ eyes.

 _And Dean got out of that life, with his little brother. But that childhood turned the man down a different path. The path of revenge. Dean and Sam Winchester became terrorists, of a sort. They traveled the road, finding victims to slash and burn and tear apart. They found great delight in this life because, somehow, hurting other people had made their own hurt a little less for just a moment. Their mentor was a man called Gordon Walker._

As Dean's memories and moments, the good, but mostly bad, came flooding into Castiel's mind and intertwined with the others in his soul, Castiel looked down at the soul in his hands. He shook his head, blue eyes sorrowful.

"Oh, Dean..." he whispered sorrowfully. "I'm so sorry."

Castiel didn't even wait the full day to begin work on Dean's soul. He carefully began to separate the bits that had been earlier wrenched apart and were now mashed together in a way, not fitting properly, something that would most definitely send Dean Winchester on the path of darkness, for this was the work of bad habits that had sunk in too deep to ever leave. Castiel winced when the soul trembled, for he knew that the process of healing Dean's soul would not be as bad as hell, but would still be painful.

"Almost there," he said softly, soothingly, as he untwisted the last piece.

Castiel had to rest after that, but he got to work on the black blemishes that resided throughout Dean Winchester's soul as soon as he could, making each piece as pure as snow before he fit them together.

After that, Castiel had to leave Dean Winchester's soul alone in the cabin for a little while while he went to get the pieces of Dean's body from hell. He could have easily summoned them to him, but that would have meant waiting longer to fix Dean as he waited for his grace to recharge.

Castiel reluctantly did so, glancing over his shoulder at the soul, lying on a silk blue cushion for comfort.

"I'll be back soon," he promised.

And he was. It wasn't very difficult, at least in the terms of ease of acquisition. The demons hadn't even bothered to attempt to destroy or hide or scatter the pieces of Dean Winchester's body, only left them on a heap in a room with the other bodies of those who were being, or had been, tortured in hell. It wasn't so easy to see the maimed flesh or the arms that should be attached to a body. But Castiel gritted his teeth, scooped them gently up in his arms, and was back in the cabin before even a single demon had seen him. On other occasions, he would have immediately suspected a trap, but now his mind was too engrossed in other things.

Castiel gently fit all the pieces of Dean Winchester's body together. Some of them were so tiny that he marveled. He took care making sure that each bone was in the right place and that each organ was healed and fully functional. It was slow work, but Castiel would have spent a lifetime doing it if he had had to. Ever since he had first seen – really seen – Dean Winchester's soul, Castiel felt something rising in him that he had never felt before. He didn't know what it was, but it made him feel warm all over. It made him want to protect this man, come what may. If, back then, Castiel had known all the cheesy statements that humans make, like "I'll love you to the moon and back" or "I would walk five thousand miles," he would have probably whispered them to Dean. As it was, as his fingers nimbly worked and Castiel's grace ebbed, he murmured tender words in Enochian to Dean Winchester. When he had to wait for his grace to recharge, he held Dean Winchester's soul close and whispered similar phrases.

At long last, after months of hard, loving work, Dean Winchester's body was fully operational and ready for its soul. Castiel had been given direct orders to put Dean back in his grave. And so after a long, longing look at that freckled face that Castiel had grown so fond of, the angel snapped his fingers and Dean Winchester's body was gone. Only his soul remained.

Castiel cradled the soul in his arms a moment longer, reluctant to let go. He knew that time was ticking and Zachariah's people were probably watching, but he couldn't let Dean Winchester go – not yet. But, finally, after what seemed like only a mere second of a blissful eternity that he could own, Castiel looked down at the shining, pure white soul in his arms. He leaned down and whispered words that he knew only Dean could hear before pressing his lips to the white, glowing light in a chaste kiss.

Then the angel opened his arms and let the soul rise into the night air. The blackness had no stars tonight because of the clouds, but to the angel watching from the ground below, the soul shone brighter than any star would have.

"I will find you, Dean Winchester," Castiel murmured.


End file.
